


if i’m here when you’re gone (i’ll fall apart)

by bennysbestie (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, Hanahaki Disease, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Spoilers, no beta we die like caspar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bennysbestie
Summary: Linhardt hadn’t seen Caspar since Fort Merceus, barely two weeks ago.He hadn’t seen Caspar since he had killed him.It seemed it was only karma that Caspar would kill him in return- slowly, as flowers grew in his lungs and heart.+++Professor Byleth, after hearing of his predicament, offers a solution: to fall in love with him instead.+++DISCONTINUED AND ORPHANED
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring (implied), Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

It was as if it was a unsaid agreement between the Blue Lions students- an agreement to never speak of the tragedies that had befallen their former classmates during the war.

Linhardt respected it. It couldn't be easy for Ingrid to think of Dorothea, wondering where the friend she had grown so close to over their academy days was now, or for Felix to think of the way he had slain Bernie.

Byleth always seemed to have taken much of that upon himself, having made complex battle plans to avoid the members of the Empire that happened to be their former classmates, or to avoid the Golden Deer students. Plans that nearly always involved him constantly pushing himself to the edges of death.  
  
These plans, as stupid as they may be, were the reason a few of his former classmates were potentially alive. Petra, at the very least, was probably back home, hiding from the war after a failed battle between the three houses. He suspected that Dorothea, if she was alive, had followed Petra to Brigid. They would be safe there, likely, as Petra's grandfather loved her, and despised being a token of the Empire regardless.  
  
As for his former classmates, Dorothea and Petra may be the only other two alive. Ferdinand definitely wasn't. Bernadetta was dead too.

Linhardt was almost grateful Mercedes had never tried to talk to him about the time she walked in on him crying in the infirmary after the battle at Gronder.

He knew Hubert and Edelgard were alive, though not for long, judging by the successes of the Blue Lions and the rest of the rebellion. They were likely to set out to the palace by the end of the month, from what Byleth had told him. 

In the darker places in his mind, it didn't seem fair. He wasn't sure _what_ exactly didn't seem fair. Perhaps it was the way he was so utterly alone here. When Ashe had fallen into tears after they took Fort Merceus, nobody had even hesitated to support him. Linhardt didn't expect that same affection from them, of course. None of these people were his friends, really, nor could he expect them to be.

Perhaps, if things had gone differently, he could have gotten the chance to die beside Caspar, or his other fallen comrades. Slain by the same people who surrounded him now, maybe. He was never quite sure why Byleth made the decision to recruit him, and he'd probably never know.

Maybe, if the final fights went right, Linhardt could have everything he had fought for. What he would've fought for, originally. What he wanted as a young, innocent teenager, who had yet to be hardened by war, by death. Maybe he still wanted that, to a degree. 

But, really, what use was peace if there was no one to share it with?

Maybe, after the war, he could search for Petra and Dorothea. If they wanted him around, even. Probably not, but it was something to hope for, at the very least.

He couldn't help but attempt to shake himself out of his thoughts. Being trapped in his mind wasn't an unusual concept for him, sure. It was what he was known for, after all- besides the falling asleep during a battle incident from a few months back, that is.

He had no doubt in the fact his mind would think of terrible things if he left it be- things such as imagining the way Lysithea must have died, or the words he wished he had never heard Bernadetta say.

Neither of them had wanted to die. They had both said it themselves.

Maybe their opinions would be changed if they were alive the way Linhardt was now- not alive, even. 'Alive' had positive connotations, as Dorothea would say. Her knowledge for language had always been far beyond him. 'Living' may be a better word for it, but still, not enough. 

Finally, he was interrupted from his own thoughts by a loud 'thud' from across the library.

"Ow...!" Ashe stood up, shaking his head as he stared at the books covering the floor. The man locked eyes with him, for a second, before pointedly declaring: "This is going to take _ages_ to clean up..."

"That seems to be a problem, doesn't it." Linhardt shook his head. Ashe and Annette were similar, _too_ similar, at times. "I'll leave you to it."

Ashe glares at him as he leaves the library, nearly causing him to laugh. 

_Caspar wouldn't have liked seeing you be mean to his friend._

"Caspar-" He mutters to himself, stopping before he can say the words. "Caspar is-"

"Caspar's gone..."

With that, he feels nothing but a tickle in the back of his throat. "Better not be catching a cold... that makes for _terrible_ sleep."

* * *

The professor had a strange love for tea parties.

Before the war, especially. Nearly every month, the man had insisted Linhardt accompany him to tea. He couldn't complain, really- Byleth always seemed to have Angelica Tea, his favorite- on hand.

Usually, the tea was accompanied by a book of crests, an item he had caught the professor buying from the merchants multiple times. Really, he couldn't see the point to Byleth spending so much on him. Sure, he probably had a somewhat hefty salary collected from the many, many, treasure hoarders they had busted. (Ashe's skill for- with no better wording for it- _stealing things_ really came in handy sometimes.) 

Quite an odd way to show affection, regardless.

One that he missed, almost. It was as if Byleth was too busy for anyone during the war. Other than weekly classes and occasional missions, he hadn't seen much of the man in months.

That was probably the factor that warranted his surprise when Byleth confronted him in the library.

"Linhardt." The man blinked, somewhat weirdly in his own opinion. "Would you like to have tea?"

He wasn't sure exactly how to respond. It often was hard to speak to the professor- he always seemed to have a 'straight-to-the-point' type of mannerism. Similar to himself, he supposed.

Harder to read than himself, for sure. Byleth was always hard to read- it was intriguing, really. The professor was the opposite of a boring person.

"Ah, I suppose... I haven't been seeming to make much progress in my studies. If only there was someone with a rare crest-"

Byleth cut him off quickly with a glare, though there was no malice in it. "Yes or no? I have your tea... and a new book of crests. This one has a different cover, too. It's probably new."

"My tea?" It was nothing short of adorable to hear the professor call it that.

"Angelica." Byleth says, matter-of-factually. He seemed to have missed the teasing tone of Linhardt's statement. 

...

Professor really did seem to go all out over the little tea parties- it was everything you could expect of a nobles party, actually. Not that Byleth was a noble, but regardless.

"I just wanted to inform you..." Byleth looked disappointed as he spoke, for some reason. "We're probably going to fight Edelgard this month. If you need-" The professor stopped talking, looking him in the eyes. "I could take you out of the battle, if you need- I've been training my faith skills for months-"

"No," Surprise filled his teachers eyes, as expected, really. "Professor, if I'm not there, someone could die. You need me."

"You're right," Byleth sipped his tea. "I just didn't want- you're the only one who knew these people. You've already lost a lot..."

"The consequences of war, I guess." He couldn't breathe properly, which was certainly strange. Maybe he _was_ sick.

"You could've still had your family if not for me, Linhardt."

"Pardon me for the bluntness, professor," If all the man had to talk to him about was some silly, unwarranted guilt complex, he was done here. "That's simply not true. My _family_ was done with me the second I decided I had no intention of marrying some noblewoman to continue the family line." 

Byleth just stared at him silently, shocked, as he got up. "Thanks for the tea. I have some business to attend to."


	2. Chapter 2

Fighting the last of the Empire's forces went well- as well as killing your former friends could go.

Byleth spent hours and hours planning the fight. Linhardt knew that first hand. He could only assume it brought some sort of comfort to the professor to do so.

For as much as Byleth planned, nobody could be immune to mishaps. There was no way Byleth could've accounted for the rouge arrow that knocked Seteth off his dragon, or the fact that Hubert would end up attacking Linhardt, of all people. Nobody expected it, probably. He wasn't even supposed to be in Hubert's range- if not for Seteth's injury, he wouldn't have been.

Not that that could change the fact he now had the blood of _two_ of his former classmates on his hands. Killing Hubert didn't feel as bad as- as watching Caspar die had felt. Which, granted, was a terrible thing to feel. One human's life shouldn't be worth more than an other's, supposedly. Regardless, Caspar's life was worth more to _him_ than Hubert's was.

How disgusting of him.

He couldn’t breathe, again, similar to the time from before. He felt everything so vividly, and yet nothing at all. All the voices surrounding him were so loud, but he couldn’t hear a word they were saying. He could smell something, metallic and odd and overpowering, but for some reason, he had no recollection of what it could be.

Did he react this badly at Fort Merceus? What a burden, he must’ve been, if that was the case.

The corners of his vision faded, slightly, before everything went black.  
  
...

"Linhardt," Someone was speaking to him. He didn't feel inclined to reply, really. His head hurt, badly. Passing out was, decidedly, nowhere near as fun as sleeping. "Wake UP."

Flayn, probably. The girl had quite a temper, surprisingly. A temper that he definitely did _not_ want to be on the receiving side of.

When he opened his eyes, everything was far too bright. "Ow," He closed them again. “I think I’m going to go back to sleep.”

Flayn slapped him lightly. “Byleth is already wasting a lot of resources on you. Be nice.”

He wasn’t quite sure where he was. Garreg Mach, probably. “Turn the lights off. It’s too bright.”

”That’s the sun.” Another voice, rougher, somewhat watery sounding- the telltale signs of tears spent- spoke. Ingrid sat at the edge of the room, staring out the window forlornly.

”Hm,” They were crying, still. They never seemed to be one to cry. “What happened?”

”You passed out, obviously... Byleth insisted that I take you back to Garreg Mach.” Ingrid answered simply. They didn’t seem to want much to do with him. 

“And...?”

”And...” Ingrid said slowly, as if they were choosing their next words carefully. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

”Like what? Caring?” 

“No.” They replied softly. “Like _that._ Like... Dimitri was. When we found him.”

He decided to stay silent, and wait for them to continue. Still, even what they had already said was concerning. 

“You didn’t see him, Linhardt... he killed _three_ people with one swing of his sword. He was so angry-“ They stopped, choking back a sob. 

Huh. Linhardt could only wonder: what could make the professor so angry? Perhaps it was the fact his carefully plotted battle had gone so wrong, or the fact half of the teams healers had been rendered useless. Not to mention, Ingrid had to leave the battle to bring him to Garreg Mach. No wonder Byleth would be angry...

”Oh,” He said, no words coming to mind that could express how he felt. Ingrid didn’t respond, they were probably back to ignoring him.

“Linhardt,” Flayn’s temper was seemingly gone as she spoke to him. “There’s something else.”

She holds up a flower before handing it to him. It’s covered in _blood,_ so Linhardt nearly drops it. The flower is purple, with delicate looking petals. “What is this?”

”I’m not sure,” She responds honestly. “Felix said you coughed it up...”

Coughing up a flower? How odd. In every single one of the medical texts he had read, there was never a mention of such. It seemed like something from a fable, in all honesty. 

“Peculiar...”

“I was thinking the same. Never, in all my years, have I heard of something like this.” 

“And how many years would that be?” He knew getting an answer out of the girl was unlikely. Derailing the conversation seemed smart, though. Whatever this was, it was his own business, nobody else’s. 

“That is nothing you need to know,” She answered as he expected. “As for the flower... you should talk to Ash- Ashe? You should talk to him... he seems to be quite knowledgeable on the subject.”

The archer. He did seem to know quite a bit about flowers. So did Dedue, but talking to him seemed more trouble than it was worth. The man never seemed to have much interest in anyone that wasn’t Dimitri, Ashe, or Annette. Ashe was a far easier target. 

Plus, Linhardt did think the situation was similar to a fable. Maybe Ashe had seen something about it, or at the very least, similar to it.

”I’ll do that...” He muttered, more of a note to himself than anything. “Have they returned?” 

“Not yet... hopefully they will soon... you were out for hours.” Huh, so Ingrid _was_ listening to their conversation. 

...

It was barely half an hour before everyone returned. (Very loudly, unfortunately.)

”You,” Felix addressed him angrily. “Do your job! He’s hurt!”

Sylvain laughed at him. “It’s okay to be _scared_ Felix...”

Linhardt tried his hardest to tune them out. His head already hurt badly enough, even without the noise. 

“Linhardt!” Flayn. Again? Goddess, he was tired. “You’re not allowed to do any healing. Byleth says so.”

“Okay...” He can feel Felix’s glare. “Can I go to sleep then? I’m awfully tired...”

”Nope!” 

He decides to observe the situation- perhaps there was a way to sneak out regardless of the rules. None of the Lions looked entirely uninjured, although, most of the injuries were just sword slashes or similarly trivial injuries. Byleth himself seemed to be absent. 

Linhardt would be lying if he said that didn’t send a strike of fear through him.

"Where is-"

"The library, I believe. He wanted some quiet." Mercedes shoots him a knowing glance- what for, he wonders. Did she know he plans to escape to his room using the ruse of finding the professor?

Nobody gave him a second glance when he left, luckily. 

As much of a ruse as the plan was supposed to be, he didn't think it was right to not at least _try_ to find Byleth. Nobody had clarified if he was healed or not, after all. It would simply be irresponsible not to stop by the library before he returned to his room.

* * *

[(the epic playlist i listen to while i write this)](https://open.spotify.com/user/v8pmubjevibazxkn6hne87buy/playlist/41gHbhiALsR1nuOEkxFeMZ?si=vJLp-iEeSH2oNsq49kAsrQ)


	3. Chapter 3

He did, true to his word, plan to visit Ashe. Eventually, anyways.

Interacting with someone so cheery was tiring, so he couldn't blame himself for putting it off. It seemed many of the Blue Lions were like that, though.

Byleth wasn't like that. It was quite easy to converse with him, actually. The professor was blunt, truthful, and best of all familiar. It made him feel at ease. Did all of the students feel like that around him?

When he had found Byleth in the library the previous day, he had been wary. After all, he didn't want to end up in a long conversation that ruined his chances of some good sleep. Luckily, his teacher seemed to get it- Byleth always seemed to get _him,_ not just his habits.

Ashe, though... as good willed as he may be, the man was _not_ Byleth. He'd seen firsthand how much the archer could talk.

Perhaps it was best to get it all over with. Plus, with lunch upcoming he had a foolproof excuse to escape the conversation.

Ashe's habits were repetitive enough- Linhardt had no doubt he would find him near the pond or in the greenhouse. Possibly in the dining hall, if not in either of those places. He pulled the flower Flayn had given him out of his pocket, observing it's purple petals. He tried to ignore the blood speckling the leaves.

"Oh wait..." He hears Ashe's voice from across the courtyard. Was he talking to somebody? Shit. "Linhardt!" The grey-haired man starts waving at him, as if Linhardt can't already tell he's there. There's dirt on his pants- Annette would _freak_ if she saw how messy he was. "Me and Dedue were just watering the plants. Flayn told me you needed something?"

”Oh, that’s alright-“ He would be lying if he said Dedue didn’t intimidate him, especially now. Plus, if this flower coughing thing did happen to be a big deal, he didn’t want many people knowing. 

“Nonsense! What do you need help with? I have lots of time!” He didn’t suppose Dedue would leave him alone with Ashe, especially since he was from Edelgard’s class originally. 

“It’s a somewhat personal matter...” He says, despite the fact he still plans to talk about it. He's far too lazy to hunt Ashe down a second time. He pulls the flower out of his pocket, holding it in front of Ashe's face.

”Wha- Linhardt! It has blood on it!” Ashe grabs it from his hands lightly, handling it with care for no particular reason that he could guess. Dedue didn’t seem to be listening into the conversation anymore.

He didn’t remember telling Ashe about his Hemophobia, although, it wasn’t exactly a secret, seeing as he’d panic at the sight of blood. He supposed Ashe’s reaction was exactly what you would expect from him; seemingly never ending optimism and kindness. _How tiring..._

He did appreciate the man’s kindness. He was often was offered support from various members of the Blue Lions, such as Flayn or Annette, but everyone else seemed like a closed book to him. Sadly, observing his other classmates wasn’t as interesting as observing Byleth.

”What’s the flower for?” Ashe asks, prompted by the silence.

”Uh...” He wasn’t quite sure how to start this conversation. “What does it mean?”

“Oh, uh...” Ashe squinted for a second. “Wait, Dedue?” Dedue looked up from his flowers attentively. “What is this?”

”Hm, is it a hyacinth?” The man offered gently. “I think it is?”

“Thank you! You’re so smart, Dedue!” Linhardt couldn’t see Dedue’s facial expression from where he was, nor did he want to, but he had a pretty good guess of what he would’ve seen. 

“I’ve never heard of a hyacinth before...” 

“Never!? They’re quite common in many places...” Ashe clapped once, careful not to crush the flower in his hands. “Alright, back to business! What does a hyacinth mean... oh! I think it means something along the lines of ‘sorrow’ and ‘regret,’ but you’d have to check one of the library books to see for sure.”

Linhardt paled slightly at the morbid sounding meaning of the flowers. “Ah, I see.” He couldn’t help but think about what the meaning was to him. “Have you ever... have you ever heard of a flower coughing disease?”

Ashe looks as if he’s been struck by lightning, as he peers at the flower in his hands with a morbid awe. “You have-“ He practically shouted.

”Sh!” Linhardt yelped, throwing a hand over the boys mouth. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles. “For the professor-“

”What about him?”

”The disease, Hanahaki, as it’s called in the myths, only occurs when someone loves another unrequited. As the legend goes, that is.”

”And Byleth...?”

”Isn’t that who it’s for?” Linhardt couldn’t help but step back in shock.

Did everyone assume the same as Ashe did? Did everyone _know?_ The Blue Lions had nearly as many nobles as the Eagles did- and he could only assume they were as stuck in their ways as the old nobles were. Even if they weren’t, it was a necessary precaution. He really didn’t have much of an option if the Lions decided having a noble with ‘ _unnatural’_ preferences wasn’t ideal.

Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t bring himself to say something harsh enough to throw Ashe off his trail. He only hoped the nobles weren’t as perceptive as Ashe. 

“Y-you don’t have to say anything-“

”No, don’t worry about it.” He threw another glance towards Dedue, who still had his back turned. “Not Byleth... I think-“

A bright, enthusiastic smile accompanied by bright blue hair played into his mind. _“Come on, Lin! I can beat them with just brute strength, don’t ya think?”_

“It’s nothing.” Ashe looked at him knowingly, _too_ knowingly. 

“I kinda know what that’s like, you know... I really did think he was dead.” It’s obvious he’s talking about Dedue. _How sweet._ It’s almost like something out of the boys fairytale books; a practical miracle. “But I don’t think you can afford to mourn normally...”

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”There’s nearly no cure to Hanahaki. Nothing that works with current medical advancement, that is. At this point, it’s supposedly can only be cured by a psychological solution.”

Linhardt couldn’t help but feel fear at Ashe’s explanation. “And that means...?”

“You can’t be in love with Caspar anymore.”

The tickle in the back of his throat rises up to choke him. He saw red, and it wasn’t just from oxygen deprivation. _Blood._

“Linhardt! Are you alright?” His vision is still slightly blurred but he could see Ashe frantically trying to wipe the blood from his hands and clothes. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!”

”I-it’s fi-“ He couldn’t bring himself to speak properly. 

“Dedue went to get Mercedes and Flayn.” Ashe said quietly. “This one’s a dahlia. I remember it from when Sylvain tried to buy Felix some flowers when Rodrigue died. Felix _hated_ them, he threw them across the room- right at Dimitri’s face- and shattered the vase. I couldn’t tell if Sylvain was actually trying to taunt him or was just being stupid...”

Linhardt breathed in a heavy breath, one that was labored by the scratchiness of his throat. “I-“

”Don’t speak. You’ll hurt yourself.” Ashe was so kind to him- to everybody- really. “Anyways, the moral of the story is that dahlias stand for a ‘lasting bond.’ I never thought I could learn so much about flowers from Sylvain, of all people.”

Linhardt snorts, wishing he could make some snarky comment about how that ‘made sense, obviously.’ He looked down at his pants, finally noticing the blood covering them. Ashe’s story had distracted him from it- as was probably intended.

“Yo-you didn’t tell th-them right?”

”About the Hanahaki? Lin- Linhardt, you could _die,_ I’m not gonna keep this a secret!”

”No,” He coughed slightly. “About Casp-Caspar... and that whole _th-thing.”_

Ashe paled. “I-I would never! That’s for you to tell, not me!” Linhardt laughed- not the happy, or amused kind, but a bitter, hollow sound. “O-or not! That’s for you to decide...!”

The sound of footsteps approaching shut them both up quickly.

”What’s going on?” Byleth’s voice- he recognize it anywhere. 

“Oh- oh _my,_ Linhardt, dearie, what do you need healed?”

”My heart, apparently.” He said deadpan.


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s Caspar, isn’t it...” Byleth speaks as he always does, calm and quiet. “It makes perfect sense. Ashe told me about the flowers, and what they mean.”

”It’s not! I could never love Caspar! He’s- he’s-“ He felt the familiar tickle of the flowers in the back of his throat, fighting the urge to cough them up. 

“Oh, alright...” Byleth put his hand to his face, staring at the wall thoughtfully. “Hubert? Ferdinand? Hm... somehow that doesn’t seem believable...”

”It’s not a man!” Byleth gives him a weird stare before his face returns to the emotionless slate it usually was. 

“I see. Bernadetta? You were awfully interested in her paintings...” Byleth nods at his own statement. Linhardt can’t bring himself to counter the words. Perhaps, if he loved women the same way he loved men, he would’ve loved Bernie.

It was not as if he wanted to tarnish her memory with the illusion of his love. Of course, in most people’s minds, that would seem wrong. But it was him; he couldn’t take anything seriously. He couldn’t even take death seriously. 

He said nothing, instead, just stared at Byleth. “Why are you not taking this seriously?” He tries to prevent himself from gasping at the way Byleth very nearly read his mind. “This is your _life_ on the line!”

”Hah, I’d nearly call it funny how you care about me more than I care about myself.”

“So it’s her?” Byleth spat. Hm. It seemed he had awoken his angry side. “I don’t care _how_ you want to cope with their deaths, but I cannot allow you to cause your own.”

”What even gives you the idea I have to cope with their deaths? I do remember telling you that I lack the skills required to grieve for the dead...”

”I think-“ The man sighs deeply. “I think that’s a coping mechanism of it’s own, Linny- _Linhardt_ ,” 

There’s nothing to say to that, truly. Nothing he can think of, at least. He isn’t sure whether to let Byleth believe what he wants or to come clean. Nor can he tell if dying is what he deserves or not. A life for a life, the saying went- or, technically, a life for two lives.

”I was also thinking... Ashe told me something.” The professor plays with his hands in a manner he’d almost call nervously. “There’s no physical cures to Hanahaki. No surgeries, no magic, nothing. The only thing that can cure it is falling out of love.”

”Seems like karma to me. Only seems fair that all the death I caused would catch up to me someday...”

”Linhardt- you can’t mean that.” He didn’t bother answering. It was obvious Byleth already knew the answer. “I tried to come up with a solution, okay? I’m not going to let you die, you’re my-“ He coughed. “Student. You’re my responsibility, Linhardt.”

”Well, you can’t save everyone. How tragic.” He sounded so bitter, even though he didn’t mean to.

”Enough.” The professor said. “At least hear me out. I was thinking while you slept. The only way to keep you alive is to make you fall out of love with whoever it is, correct?”

”Hm.”

”And we’re kind of on a time crunch here... seeing how many flowers you’re coughing up, you don’t have that long. So, it would make sense to... _speed up_ the process of falling _out_ of love by falling _in_ love.”

”That’s the most I’ve heard you speak, nearly ever. It’s kind of making me sleepy...”

”Shh. Originally, I was thinking I- that I would be the one to offer. But, since it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in men... Annette maybe?”

”No,” He mutters firmly. Annette had gone through enough heartbreak already- he wasn’t the only one who had lost someone during war. 

“I don’t- who else, Linhardt?”

“Nobody. I’m not interested.” He lays back, closing his eyes.

Silence. He was used to silence when it came to Byleth. The amount he had talked today was nearly uncharacteristic. The man only talked so much when he was truly passionate about something.

”But...” Byleth was rarely passionate about things. “I guess... if you want... if _you_ wanted to make me fall in love with you... I wouldn’t be opposed. Just make sure not to fall in love with a dying man. Not that that’s likely.”

The air felt tenser following the final statement.

”Okay...” The sound of a door opening rang in his ears. “I need your help with training Felix’s reason magic. He’ll be in the training hall when you wake up.”

* * *

Felix was significantly less decent to be around than Ashe.

It was obvious he wanted nothing to do with Linhardt. They were practically opposites- Felix being training obsessed had never made any sense to him. 

“What do you _need?_ ” The first, and only thing Felix had said to him despite the half hour they had already spent in the same room.

“Nothing...” He sighed. “I could be sleeping right now...”

”You literally _were just sleeping!_ What are you even saying?” 

“The ground isn’t my favorite place to sleep...” Despite the fact, he laid back down on the ground. “Hm.”

Felix didn’t respond. Back to training, probably. Even just the thought of it made him sleepy. 

When the noise of Felix’s sword hitting the dummies stopped, he cracked one eye open slightly. 

“When Rodrigue died...” The man’s voice was wavering, from what was probably the exercise. “Everybody treated me like fucking glass. Like I was going to break, and hurt everyone. They were probably right.”

”Hm.” Felix probably didn’t expect an answer, nor did he want to provide one.

”They’re doing that to you too, you know. I think it ridiculous. You don’t deserve their kindness-“

”Thanks.”

”Shut up. If you’re _so_ smart, you should get what I’m trying to say. I won’t spell it out for you. Have you even accepted he’s dead? I didn’t. Not for weeks.”

He responds with silence. 

“Caspar is _dead._ You _killed_ him, whether it was an accident or not. We killed people. We killed our _fucking friends!_ I killed _Bernie,_ with my own sword! I still have the poem she wrote about me and Sylvain on my desk... she’s-“ 

“She would’ve been the best fucking author I’ve ever met. She lost that, because of me.” Felix continues talking. He can’t bring himself to interrupt him. He couldn’t have, even if he wanted. 

If he had tried, he would’ve coughed the flowers in his mouth all over the floor.

”I’m not going to let Byleth feel that pain all over again, Linhardt.” He cocked his head inquisitively, spitting the flowers into his hand discreetly when Felix turned his head back to the training dummy. “He did so much for all of us. That shit you’re probably feeling?”

Felix stays silent for a second. “He says he doesn’t feel anything, but he’s wrong. I know it. Don’t make him feel what you're feeling right now, shithead. Don’t die on him.”

“Whatever could you mean? I’m not planning on dying anytime soon...” 

“Stop the shit. Everyone can see through your bluff- if not everyone, at the very least, I can. I grew up with Sylvain- you can’t lie to me.”

Linhardt glares at him, wondering what to say. 

“And guess what? Nobody fucking cares. Nobody gives a _shit_ if you’re gay, or whatever the fuck your deal is. I don’t give a shit about _you_ , Linhardt. What _I_ care about is who you might hurt.”

With that, Felix falls silent again.

The two spend nearly an hour in tense silence before Sylvain bursts into the room. “Linhardt! It’s about Petra and Dorothea!”


End file.
